


Nice and Easy

by pssychotropical



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Breathplay, Deepthroating, Derogatory Language, Established Relationship, M/M, Restraints, Roleplay, being attacked and fighting back
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:33:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27592780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pssychotropical/pseuds/pssychotropical
Summary: "The alertness now settles down in the pit of his stomach and it's mixed with tension and excitement, even a tinge of fear, despite himself. There are no sounds to be caught coming from any of the rooms and he isn't sure where exactly to lead his steps. All the noise he can register comes solely from his own body; it's the blood beginning to chug in his veins and the breathing that grows shallow in his chest."
Relationships: Na Jaemin/Suh Youngho | Johnny
Comments: 8
Kudos: 63





	Nice and Easy

**Author's Note:**

> Please have a look at the tags before you read, thanks.

There is a feeling of alertness that rises in Jaemin's chest the moment he walks into the empty apartment and locks the door. In a series of careful, measured moves, he sets his bag on the floor, takes off his coat and slips the shoes off his feet, before finally venturing to set off further. The alertness now settles down in the pit of his stomach and it's mixed with tension and excitement, even a tinge of fear, despite himself. There are no sounds to be caught coming from any of the rooms and he isn't sure where exactly to lead his steps. All the noise he can register comes solely from his own body; it's the blood beginning to chug in his veins and the breathing that grows shallow in his chest. He chooses his way to the kitchen and acts his part all cool, opening the fridge to bring out a carton of milk, then setting an electric kettle as if about to prepare himself a cup of coffee.

Whether he'll manage to do so, to complete the process and dip his lips into the drink, he isn't sure, but the quiet rippling and burbling sound of the water calms his nerves, even if only a bit, and it's in this exact moment of his calm, of his guard being let down ever so slightly, that a pair of hands seizes his shoulders and hurls him against the kitchen island, face pushed down to its the surface, flat against the cold granite. He doesn't fight it back, at least not in the first few seconds that follow the attack, the most crucial seconds for that matter. He's still in the shock, stunned by whatever has just happened, whatever has just started to happen, and he registers the strap tightening around his neck only the moment it begins to restrict his breathing. The hands that grip his neck are powerful but sensitive; they clutch the strap tight, stopping Jaemin's breathing altogether, then ease the pressure, controlling the air Jaemin is able to gasp. So loud does Jaemin suck his next breath in, there is nothing else he can hear, and with the air rushing down to his lungs, he finally comes round, adrenaline spiking in his veins.

He arches, then twists his whole body, hands desperately reaching up to try free his neck of whatever's being looped and firmly secured around it. There is no coordination to his moves and the convulsive wrenching around brings no apparent effect, except for speeding up his breathing and heating up his entire body. He can't see the face of his assailant; neither as he struggles to jerk himself out of his hold, nor when he's manhandled back into immobility. The assailant's body, clearly stronger and bigger in frame, presses hard against Jaemin's, and his hands easily grab Jaemin's wrists, one by one, twisting his arms behind his back, then transferring both of Jaemin's wrists into one hand, holding them firmly in place, at an uncomfortable angle. With the other hand, now free to do as it pleases, the assailant grips Jaemin's chin and forces his head to turn to a side. That's when they look at each other for the first time.

Seen from this awkward angle, Johnny's face looks focused; his lips are drawn into a tight line, eyebrows furrowed and pupils enlarged with all the adrenaline. When he breathes in, his nostrils flare aggressively, and Jaemin can't help but let out a strangled moan. He's already begun to have an erection midway through his struggle, aroused by being so suddenly, quickly and convincingly overpowered, but it's only now, seeing Johnny's face, flushed as his own, that he feels painfully hard.

"So that was easy, huh?" Johnny's voice contains feigned mockery and genuine triumph. It's lowered and raspy and absolutely drives Jaemin crazy.

There comes a brief pause, during which all that they do is stare into each other's eyes, as if daring the other person to make the next move and simultaneously trying to foresee it and prevent. Johnny's fingers dig hard into Jaemin's sharp, hollow cheeks, and as he momentarily focuses on that, his other hand's grip relaxes around Jaemin's wrists, not much but just enough to give him the wiggle room to fight back, one last time. He frees his one wrist and with the force of his arm's movement, stirs under Johnny's body. It's a very brief moment of victory, immediately followed by Johnny's counterattack. He pushes Jaemin's arm onto the kitchen island with one hand, while the other grabs at a handful of Jaemin's hair and forces Jaemin's neck to bend back, its long column at full display. Following a sudden, sharp pain is a wave of arousal that flushes through Jaemin's entire body. It's a reaction more to the change of position rather than the pain itself. Jaemin is a weak opponent. It's easy to manipulate his body. The awareness of all that dizzies Jaemin's mind.

"Are you going to behave for me?" This time, there's a note of irritation in Johnny's voice. He's reprimanding Jaemin.

Jaemin wants to nods his head but can't, in his current position barely able to budge. He swallows and lets out a low "yes" between shallow intakes of breath. Johnny seems to enjoy this response very much.

His left hand leaves Jaemin's wrist and moves up Jaemin's neck instead, touching the collar, perfunctorily, as if to remind Jaemin of its location. Their faces are inches apart and they're looking into each other's eyes, so carefully that for a moment Jaemin's almost sure they're going to break the act. But then Johnny continues to speak. "Let's make a deal, shall we?" he asks, in a voice that doesn't seem to welcome any negotiations. "You stop opposing me and I'll make it quick for you. So quick, we'll be done before your boyfriend comes back home and sees you."

Something heavy stirs inside of Jaemin. Involuntarily, he closes his eyes and seeing that, Johnny tightens the grip in Jaemin's hair. Jaemin can't help but yelp in pain.

"Do you want to be cooperative?" Johnny's voice asks. "Or do you want me to force you?" There's a new tinge to Johnny's voice. It's mean and unapologetic, almost to the point of being unsettling.

Jaemin inhales audibly. His hands are clenching at the edge of the kitchen island, so tightly that it starts to hurt, and it's a way to distract him from the pain that is already being inflicted on his head by Johnny's unrelenting grip. "I'll be good," he promises, though his weak voice doesn't help making him seem trust-worthy. It sounds like he could promise just about anything, if only for a moment of peace.

Johnny smiles, his lips curling in a very controlled way. "We'll see how good you can be."

The moment his fingers finally disentangle from Jaemin's hair, Jaemin sighs with relief, his fingers in turn relaxing on the granite countertop. He lowers his head so his neck is no longer arching backwards and focuses on breathing, trying to gather his thoughts and plan his actions in the brief time that precedes Johnny's next order.

"Strip for me."

The giggle that slips past Jaemin's lips is a sign of distress rather than amusement. "Here?" he asks, incredulously.

There's a pause before Johnny's reply. The man's strong arms manoeuvre Jaemin's body so that the two are now facing one another, Jaemin with his back against the kitchen island and Johnny lazily tracing the line of buttons on Jaemin's shirt, his touch too soft to be felt on the skin. "Here," he confirms. "In your very pretty kitchen." He then takes a step back to have a better view of Jaemin's full body. "Start from the shirt," he tells him.

Unable to stand Johnny's expectant stare, Jaemin drags his eyes to the side, quickly assessing the situation. There's nothing lying on any of the countertops in Jaemin's proximity and the drawer containing knifes and other kitchen utensils is somewhere behind Johnny's back, too far to reach in a short span of time. The clock shows the time to be somewhere around four pm, and just as he's reading the minutes, trying to estimate in his head for how long he's been dealing with the man now, there comes sharp pain on his face. Johnny's right hand has slapped Jaemin so hard that his vision momentarily blurred and ears rang, his head spinning to the side with the force of the attack. He gasps. His skin is stinging and he's sure that if he could look into a mirror, there would be a red hand imprinted on his skin. The thought sends a new rush of blood down Jaemin's body.

"What are we waiting for?"

Jaemin's hands reach to his shirt. His ears are still ringing when he proceeds to unbutton it, and the hurry with which he does so causes his moves to be less efficient, almost clumsy. His hands are shaking, he realizes now, as he's looking at them, and it takes him longer than necessary to pull some of the buttons through the holes. He's afraid that Johnny can see it.

"Drop it on the floor," Johnny prompts him to, as soon as Jaemin deals with the last button. The fabric of the shirt softly slide off of his arms and down onto the tiled floor of the kitchen. Cold air touches his bare skin, making his nipples harden. He fights the urge to cover his chest with his arms and instead looks the man into the eyes, awaiting further instructions. "Now your jeans," Johnny says, impatient. "Off."

When Jaemin begins fumbling with his belt, he notices just how hard he has gotten. The erection is easily evident in his pants, filling out one of the legs. Feeling humiliated by the reaction of his own body, he unbuckles his belt and is about to move onto the fly, when Johnny outstretches his one hand.

"Give me," he orders.

It takes a moment for Jaemin to realize what he means. Clumsily, he pulls the belt out of the loops and hands it to Johnny, feeling more aroused with each passing second. Which Johnny doesn't comment on, even though he must be distinctly aware of it, staring at Jaemin's crotch. He takes the belt and plays with it, as Jaemin begins working his pants down his legs. He leans with his butt against the kitchen island, lifts one leg, peels the jeans fabric off of it, then does the same with his other leg. His socks fall to the ground, together with his pants.

Standing completely naked, except for the collar on his neck and his underwear, with a wet patch where his cock is slowly beginning to drip, Jaemin doesn't move. It's like he's hoping for the instructions to end here. Hoping that this will satisfy the definition of stripping and that he won't have to go on.

Seeing his behaviour as an act of disobedience, Johnny lets out a reproachful grunt. "You're a smart boy," he says. "You know what's next."

But Jaemin still doesn't budge. He's now looking at the belt in Johnny's hand, buckle between his fingers, the rest dangling low above the ground. There's a pause in which Johnny follows Jaemin's eyes. Silence. Jaemin feels himself stop breathing. His whole body tenses. And then an ear-piercing snap cuts through the air as the belt sharply swats against Jaemin's thighs. That's what forces the first loud noise out of Jaemin's throat. He lets out a cry and his voice breaks midway through it. When he finally looks down, he sees a red trace, darker on one thigh.

"Keep going."

This time Jaemin doesn't find it in him to protest. He slips his thumbs under the fabric and pushes, letting his underwear drop to his feet. His cock is now standing straight up and Johnny's very obviously taking a look at it.

"So you're enjoying this?" he asks, as if that has ever been a question. His mocking voice makes it sound like something Jaemin should be humiliated by, like he should fight against it. Like it makes no sense for him to be aroused by a man who manhandles him and forces to get naked. Who makes him feel small and vulnerable, and moves around like a ragdoll. He looks Jaemin in the eyes and the next thing he says, his voice is sharp and harsh. "You slut."

Jaemin blinks his eyes. His hands move up, quickly, and he leans against the kitchen island, as if afraid that his legs could give up on him any second.

"You like it when I talk to you like this," Johnny says, accusatorily.

Jaemin doesn't respond. He's breathing fast now, his chest rising and falling, body all hot and tense.

"We still have some time before your boyfriend comes back," Johnny reminds him, coming two steps closer. His one hand still holding the belt, he loops it around Jaemin's wrists, then fastens it tight. Jaemin doesn't put up any resistance. "We'll use it well," he says, very quietly, almost like he's speaking to himself rather than to Jaemin. The belt firmly keeping Jaemin's wrists together, he takes hold of Jaemin's collar instead and drags it. "Let's sit down," he tells Jaemin, forcing him to rearrange his body and sit on the floor. "Nice and easy."

The new position makes Jaemin feel almost claustrophobic. He's small and pressed against the kitchen island, with no way of moving his restrained hands for stability, and he only realizes that he's closed his eyes when he hears Johnny's voice telling him to look straight ahead.

When his eyes flutter open, they are slowly beginning to dampen, and Johnny's standing right in front of him, legs spread apart, feet on either side of Jaemin's body. His hard cock is in his hand and he's slowly directly it towards Jaemin's face, his eyes looking down on Jaemin, a focused expression on his face. "Be a good whore," he tells him to. Jaemin doesn't break their eye contact as he opens his mouth and slightly sticks his tongue out, flat against his lower lip. Johnny lets out a shaky breath. "You're no longer even fighting against it, huh?"

Jaemin acts like he doesn't even hear it, all of his attention now focused on what's about to happen, doing all that he can to ease the process for himself.

At first Johnny ignores his open mouth; he mockingly moves the tip of his cock across Jaemin's cheek, smearing the precome on his skin. Jaemin watches him do it silently, breathing through his nose.

Then, finally, Johnny's cock moves inside, prying Jaemin's jaw open. He takes his time and allows Jaemin to accommodate him, experimentally sucking the length in before Johnny starts pushing in. At first the thrusts are shallow, then become more sharp, in and out until Jaemin gags for the first time this evening, his eyes now closed, thick eyebrows furrowed in concentration. His tied hands are lying close to Johnny's leg, ready to signal if it becomes too much. Johnny takes it all out, then pushes back in, and soon his thrusts become regular, gaining in speed. Light-headed, Jaemin lets it happen, digging his nails into his own fingers for distraction. That's when the cock gets into his throat for the first time and he coughs, saliva collecting in the corners of his mouth, then dripping down his chin. It takes a few attempts, each one more successful, until finally the head of Johnny's cock finds itself comfortably filling in the tight space of Jaemin's throat. Jaemin's nose is pressed against Johnny's pelvis and his pubic hair, and for a few good seconds he can't breathe and can't move, and then Johnny pulls out. Jaemin takes a deep breath in and one moment later it happens again. He's whimpering at the repeated intrusion, rough and quick, until one time Johnny just holds it there, for an excruciatingly long while, before pulling out completely.

At first Jaemin doesn't understand why. Only as he looks up at Johnny's wincing face, through his wet eyelashes, can he understand just how close Johnny is. And that he doesn't want to come yet. Not like this.

"Stand up," Johnny instructs him, in a voice that makes him sound angry.

Still breathing with difficulty, Jaemin allows the man to drag him back up. There's no more teasing and mocking. In one strong motion, Johnny lifts his body and pushes up onto the ice cold countertop, making him hiss with surprise and immediately after moan in pleasure. As he's lying flat on top, his bound wrists stretched in front of him, Johnny begins preparing him, one lubed finger first, then two more, and Jaemin has no idea how long or how short it lasts, pointlessly wiggling and twisting his body at the sensations which he has no control over and can't put an end to. His own cock is painfully hard, almost on the verge of coming, and he hasn't been touched once this whole evening. It wasn't necessary.

When Johnny's cock finally enters him, he lets out a long, desperate moan, which earns him a strong slap. "You've been wanting this, huh?" Johnny's voice is no longer controlled and cold. He sounds just as desperate as Jaemin, and as he keeps thrusting in with increasing speed, his words become almost a mindless blabber, "Already when you walked into this apartment, you've been waiting to be jumped and taken by force, huh? You're such a slut it's good that your boyfriend can't see you like this."

Jaemin's sweaty body helplessly slides against the countertop with each thrust, and he moans in response, almost begging Johnny to go on, keep on talking. Another slap lands on his ass and then Johnny's hand grips Jaemin's hair again, craning his neck, then applying pressure on the collar to stop his breathing for a good few seconds.

"It's so easy to have you," he pants into Jaemin's ear. "You can't even fight back. You just take it like a slut."

And it's these exact words, combined with the momentary inability to breathe, that take Jaemin over the edge. He spills onto the countertop, untouched, his whole body tensing and arching in Johnny's hold, mouth involuntarily screaming his name. Johnny doesn't take much longer either. Two more shallow thrusts and he comes inside him, finally ceasing to move and letting Jaemin rest motionless on the kitchen island.

Then. It's a long break for breathing.

Once they're both sitting with their backs against the kitchen island, Jaemin's hands are no longer tied up and he's got a bathrobe on, which Johnny brought him from the hall. They're still coming down from the high of their orgasms but the atmosphere is significantly changed, with no more unpredictability and tension in the air, instead of it a sense of serenity. Jaemin's head is propped against Johnny's shoulder and Johnny's fingers are softly playing with the damp strands of his boyfriend's hair, as he watches the red traces on his neck and wrists.

"How are you feeling?" he asks, and Jaemin chuckles in response, dizzily amused.

"Amazing. You've already asked me this three times."

"And I'll keep asking," Johnny retorts. It sounds like he's teasing Jaemin just for the sake of it, but there's also a layer of seriousness to it. What he genuinely cares about the most in this moment is making sure his boyfriend is feeling satisfied with the roleplay and as physically comfortable as it's possible for a person who's just been fucked into a granite countertop. There's a pause and then Johnny musters the courage to ask, "So how did you like it?"

Jaemin looks up at him, his eyes shining bright with satisfaction. "Much better than the last time. You're really making some progress." Johnny releases an exaggerated sigh of relief and Jaemin giggles at the sound of it. "Your text message absolutely caught me off-guard. I was convinced you would choose Friday."

"I knew you would be expecting Friday," Johnny tells him then, with pride inflating in his voice.

Jaemin lifts his head and presses a kiss on Johnny's mouth. Which Johnny realizes now they haven't done the entire role play. "I loved your dirty talk, baby. You made me feel like hell of a slut."

Johnny hums in approval, then leans forward and steals another brief kiss off of Jaemin's lips. "What about the belt. Wasn't that much?"

Jaemin's half-lidded eyes look relaxed as he speaks. "As soon as you had it in your hands, I knew I wanted to feel it."

"I saw that."

"You know me."

Johnny hums again. He closes his eyes and presses his lips to Jaemin's forehead, his fingers now tangled between Jaemin's. "I propose we go take a long bath now and I massage your neck. Then, we go back to the kitchen, I clean the countertop and we eat dinner."

The way Jaemin smiles now shows the entire row of his snow-white bunny teeth. "Did you just say dinner?"

"Prepared before you came home."

"So you prepared an ambush _and_ dinner?" Jaemin's hand moves over Johnny's chest, petting it appreciatively. The man's whole body is still dressed, not even the shirt has been taken off, and this realization sends another sparkle of arousal through Jaemin's tired body. "I have an absolutely magical boyfriend."

"Is what I was expecting to hear."

**Author's Note:**

> Since I've already written it, why not displease a wider public with it?


End file.
